


langst//i wasn't lying when i said i love you

by faguettenoodles



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Trigger Warning???, Voltron klance, hanahaki, i rarely update this due to some shit, im sorta not sorry for this yall, klance, pls enjoy the p a i n
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-11 23:02:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12945924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faguettenoodles/pseuds/faguettenoodles
Summary: "do you think he'll like them?""he?""my boyfriend. do you think he'll like these marigolds?"he could already feel the flowers start to bloom in his lungs, preparing to scrape and puncture their way out his mouth."oh, uh, yeah. yeah I'm sure your boyfriend would love them."





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> updates will be really slow due to some bad anxiety, but please bear (bare??) with me friends. i'll update as much as i can  
> i hope you enjoy!!
> 
> EDIT: 12/8/2017; holy??? shit???? i j u s t posted this last night and it already has so many kudos and reads????? adsfghj thank you guys sm ily you guys
> 
> EDIT: 5/1/18; some of you have been asking about updates and here is your answer!! I've hit quite the writer's block when it comes to this fanfiction--mostly due to me not being interested in voltron anymore. But don't worry!! I'm still working on chapters, they'll just be uploaded a lot slower than normal. Thank you sm for sticking around!!

Lance ran his fingertips against the misty pedals of the flowers in his shop--still cold from being sprayed with water just half an hour earlier. He had rows upon rows of different flowers, though his pale green Peruvian lilies were his pride and joy. Favorites, if you will. Roses and carnations of assorted colours and sizes grew in the large windows of the small shop. 

Business was slow today. It was a dreary type of the day; the kind where you can wake up and already  _feel_ the molasses-like progression of time. And to make it worse, Lance had the daunting sensation that something terrible was going to happen today; so he was kind of relieved when the odd looking mullet boy walked into the shop. 

Lance fiddled with his name tag until he deemed it perfectly resting on his red apron. "Hey, what  can I get for...you...?" 

Looking up into Mullet Boy's cold, dark eyes was the worst mistake of Lance McClain's fucking life. 

He gave Lance an awkward smile and slipped him a very terrible sketch of a flower bouquet. "You do small arrangements right?" he asked, digging around his satchel for his wallet. Lance wasn't the best at taking orders--they always confused him--preferring to construct the arrangement instead. 

"Yeah, we do. I need your full name, the date you want it by and what flowers you want it to have." He studied the rough sketch before scribbling something on it. 

"Keith?" 

"What?" 

"My name...it's Keith Kogane. I'd like them done before the twenty fifth of..." Lance stopped paying attention; instead, he focused on the way Keith's lips moved when he spoke. He caught himself staring just in time for the other boy to raise a brow. 

"What are you staring at?" he asked, letting out a soft, awkward laugh. "Is there something on my face?" 

The Cuban shook his head a few times, straightening his posture. "Fuck, sorry. I just...I was staring at your...nose. It's a very nice nose. Perfectly structured."  _His_   _nose? Really Lance?_

 _"_ Right...yeah. Well, like I said before, I really don't care what flowers you use for the arrangement. I'm not specialized in flower-olgy." 

"Floristry," Lance corrected. 

"Whatever. Just have it done before the date I gave you." 

"Yeah, 'course. Have a good day and all that jazz." 

Keith chuckled, giving Lance a little salute before heading to the door. His hand was on the handle, pushing it out; but before he could leave, Lance stopped him. "Wait wait! I want to give you something." 

Keith stops, watching Lance frantically run behind the counter, and over to a bucket of Peruvian Lilies. He picks a light purple one and hands it to Keith. "Thought you'd might like this." The grin on his face was notorious for being devilish, and his blue eyes glinted with admiration for the male in front of him. 

"Thanks, Lance." Keith gives him a sheepish smile, which he quickly wiped away when he cleared his throat. "I better get going. Midterms and all." 

"Fuck! Yeah, I guess uh...I'll call you when the arrangement is ready." He brushed his hands on his red apron and waves farewell to Keith, returning to his post behind the counter. 

Keith hummed in response as he pushed the door open, and headed out into the bitter cold day. Lance stared wistfully as Keith left the small floral shop; he hadn't noticed the love struck smile on his face until his mother patted his shoulder and brought him back to reality. 

"Daydreaming again, mijo?" She asked, ruffling Lance's curly chocolate hair. She picked up the small piece of paper with Keith's order and read it; her brow quirked as she slowly put the pieces together. "Met a boy, eh?" 

"Yeah...God mom, please don't make the bouquet cheesy." The Cuban whined, turning to his mother. She had always teased her son about the little crushes he's had--but this time...

This time, Lance felt different. This wasn't puppy love, or those tiny crushes people get when somebody does something cute. 

He felt like he was falling _, rapidly.  
_

"Alright, alright." His mother, Sofia, chuckled, giving her son a heart filled peck on the head. 

* * *

The day for Lance drifted almost as fast as his thoughts. Before he knew it, the bright winter sun had swapped places with the cold, silver moon. 

Silver. 

Like Keith's eyes. 

Lance felt his face heat up, and a dorky smile appeared on his lips. God, he knew he would fall for someone one day, but  _damn_ , this was much worse than he thought it'd be. It was painful, and it made him confused, and giddy, and  _excited to wake up_. This feeling of letting himself like what he'd seen in Keith so far made him swell with airlessness and excitement; his heart didn't feel too heavy, and he felt invincible. 

A short, sharp cough ripped from his throat. Once. 

Twice. 

Three times. 

Four. 

Finally, Lance was able to stop the coughing. He cleared his throat and had one of his co-workers take over counter duty so he could go on break. Lance poured himself a cup of water--he chugged it. 

Deciding to take a walk outside, Lance headed out, grabbing a sweater and a hat. His curls stuck out of the black beanie in tendrils, curling around the edges of the fabric; his sweater was a simple pale blue with a little black cloud in the center. One of his hands was in the pocket of his sweater, the other scrolling through his Instagram. Lance wore distressed black jeans, the fabric hugging his lower body almost perfectly; the outfit was paired with black and white Converse. 

For late November, it was quite rare to see snow, but since December was coming quickly, it wasn't all too surprising. Fuck, Lance should've worn something warmer than this. 

As the tiny white flakes started to fall, they caught in Lance's hair and eyelashes. On his hat and on his eyebrows; there were almost as many snowflakes on his face now as there were freckles. When the snow started to fall more, he put his phone away and headed to the local park. 

There was a large weeping willow tree at the center of the park. Lance made his way over to it, knowing that many people hung out under there--correction,  _nobody_  hung out there. It was Lances' spot, and his alone. Nobody dared to disrupt that. 

The Cuban made his way under the trees leaves and sat down against the trunk. He would spend most of his breaks here, under the leaves of this massive tree. It didn't provide much protection from the elements, but it did supply a sort of whimsical comfort. A fairy tale like euphoria. Lance rested his head against the tree and closed his sea blue eyes. 

He ignored the scratching in his throat. 

He ignored the way his breathing hitched when his chest started to ache. 


	2. two

What seemed like a quick fifteen minute nap to Lance ended up being two hours. He was awoken by the buzzing of his phone in his pocket--his mother; apparently she had called him three times prior to him waking up. Groggily, Lance picked up the phone. **" _Si mam_** ** _á_** ** _, que quieres?_ "**

 **"Don't pick up with that tone, _huevo_!"**  Sofia scolded. Lance ran his palm down face and stood up. 

**"Sorry, sorry, I'm just tired."**

**"Where are you?"**

**"Walking home. I took a nap under that tree in the park."**

**"In the snow? _Ay dios mio, mijo_  come back quickly." **

Lance gave her an exhausted, " **mhm** ," and hung up. The Cuban walked back to the store, shivering harshly. The snow had seemingly bit through his sweatshirt and the icy wind started to trickle into any opening it could; the walk back was horrid--and the snow seemed to fall harder than it did when he walked to the park. Dammit, he should've listened to his mom. 

Upon making it back to the store, he found it to be closed. Lance walked to the door next to the shop and made his way upstairs,  to the medium studio apartment he shared with this mother and their tabby cat. 

The apartment was a nice little space honestly. Lance had helped his mother to add another wall to form a room for him, and one for Sofia when he was twelve; the studio had a large window facing the street that allowed for the place to have natural light illuminate it. During the day it felt like living in one of those cheesy ass romcom movies--but at night, the moon and what little stars he could see made it feel like a witches' home. Lance adored the little apartment he shared with his mom. 

Lance trudged to his room, stripped out of his wet, snow covered clothes and into warmer ones; black sweatpants and a Disneyland t-shirt he bought two years prior. His hair was damp, but he decided to leave it to air dry--he liked how curly his hair got anyway. 

When he returned to the living room, his mother was in the kitchen, making hot cocoa for her son; Lance walked over to her and gave her head a soft kiss. " _Hola mamá_ ," he muttered, looking for an apple to snack on. 

Sofia returned the greeting and handed a cup of the hot beverage to her son. It had three marshmallows floating in it and a spoon in the cup to stir more milk into it--just the way Lance liked it. He thanked her and leaned against the counter as he enjoyed the hot cocoa with his mother.  

"Something is troubling you," she noted, putting a hand on her son's cheek. He leaned into it, sighing softly. "Talk to me." 

Lance put down his cup and his apple and stared at his mother for a moment. She was beautiful, really. Smile lines graced the corners of her deep brown eyes, and she had prominent cheekbones, making her smile even more comforting than it already was. She smelled like vanilla and honeysuckle, and despite how odd that mixture sounds, Lance found it smelled like home. 

"Lance." 

"Sorry. Dozed off for a moment." He closed his ocean eyes and gave her a weak smile. "I've just been feeling a bit sick lately. It might be the sudden snow storm." Sofia knew it was a lie, having known for years how her son operated. But she decided to just let Lance continue. "Maybe it's allergies or somethi-" 

As if on cue, Lances body shook with a coughing fit far more violent than the one that had ravaged his body earlier that day. His mother fretted for a moment and rushed to get him a glass of water, but something was different this time; he felt like throwing up. But his throat was dry? His chest heaved a little, and he felt his eyes water as his body rejected...something. 

Almost as soon as it had started, the coughing stopped. Lance was hunched over clutching his stomach with one hand, and holding his throat with the other. A mix of worry and confusion and terror was etched into his face as he coughed one more time; this time, two rose petals fell from his mouth, one dark purple, the other, a pale lavender. 

Sofia drew in a breath. She was just as confused and worried as her son. " _Hijo_..." 

Lance stood up slowly and took the glass of water his mom gave him. The world seemed to slow down. He took a sip of the water and just stared at the two petals on the linoleum kitchen floor. What the fuck? Petals from his throat? That was fucking weird, not to mention  _impossible._ Humans just don't grow flowers inside of them. That was the stuff of nightmares, and fairy tales. The Cuban put the cup of water down next to his unfinished hot cocoa and apple, and gulped. 

The action burned his throat. 

"I...think I'll head to sleep early," he told his mother, voice devoid of all emotion except fear. 

"Lance, you can't go to sleep without eating-" 

He seemed to not have heard her. "Goodnight mamá."  

Lance felt like he was at his wits end in the matter of a few minutes. He made his way to his room and laid down, his blue eyes closing almost immediately. "What the fuck...." he muttered, running a hand through his chocolate curls. 

Maybe if he fell asleep, he'd wake up under that snow covered willow tree. Right? This was all a damn crazy dream that was probably induced by the week old chili he ate last night; humans don't just vomit rose petals! That's just not how humans work. 

Sleep wasn't that hard to acquire for Lance, and just before he slipped into a deep slumber, he hugged a stuffed animal close to his chest for comfort, stuffing his face into the soft fur of the hammerhead shark plush. 

He hadn't done that in almost ten years. 

**Author's Note:**

> if you guys want to follow my social media, please feel free to! i'll provide some links  
> writing tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/vivalashouta  
> instagram: https://www.instagram.com/actualturniptyler/?hl=en  
> twitter: https://twitter.com/_TurnipTyler


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